


Nothing More and Nothing Less

by geeky__chick



Series: One More Resurrection [4]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: I mean its all fluff, Loki and Valkyrie don't suck at feelings anymore?, Mild Sexual Content, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), SO FLUFFY, So sugary you might need a root canal, Valki - Freeform, Valki baby, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-10 11:21:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14736027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geeky__chick/pseuds/geeky__chick
Summary: The final piece in One More Resurrection.Its been three years since the Titan fell and Loki's life is completely different.





	Nothing More and Nothing Less

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the final piece in One More Resurrection.
> 
> This has been so fun to write, fluff and all. I really didn't expect much from it when I posted the first part. But it might be one of my favorite things I've written. It was just so much fun.
> 
> Thank you all for reading!

Rain pattered on the windows, a far off roll of thunder heralding the increasing severity of the coming storm. Brunnhilde burrowed her face more deeply into the pillow, having awoken at the first rumble. When the king boasted the power to control thunder and lightning, a single clap of it always awoke the captain of his guard. She could only go back to sleep when satisfied that the incoming storm had not been the result of her king in danger.

Well, perhaps less the idea of her king in danger, and more the welfare of her brother.

She had almost drifted back to sleep, catching a few, precious hours of it uninterrupted, when the bed dipped behind her. Hilde smiled in spite of knowing his arrival had killed any intentions of sleep, sighing happily when his arms wove around her middle, tucking her body into his.

Loki Odinson, King of the Jotuns, Prince of New Asgard, God of Mischief and husband to the last Valkyrie was the cuddliest son of a bitch in the galaxy.

He pulled her as close as he could in the darkness, burying his face in her unbound hair. Hilde felt his deep inhalation of her scent, the way his body relaxed around hers at the aroma. Inside of just three short years, she had come to rely on his snuggling to lull her into sleep. Not that any living soul _knew_ about their predilection for being held or holding as they slept. Surely not.

To the outside world, they were waspish, snarky, and sometimes plain mean.

But, when they found moments alone…

“Hello, my prince.”

Hilde’s voice was as he preferred it, slow and soft with sleep. Loki shifted his face, catching his chin on the juncture between her shoulder and throat, his favorite place for resting.

“Good evening.” Her husband whispered the reply. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

Hilde’s smile widened. “I’ve gone soft. I ought to have known you were home before you opened the door.”

“Who said I opened the door?” Loki tossed back, squeezing her middle. “You rarely sleep so soundly of late.”

“Mmm.” She murmured. “I had a rough night.”

“Well, I’m home now. No more rough evenings for you.”

They lay together in silence, listening as the storm rolled in off the sea. Their breath soon matched cadence, the languid thrum of their hearts slipping into identical pace. Always, from that day she dragged his body on board the _Commodore_ , they were in sync.

He’d been gone a full two weeks, off finalizing a treaty with their Finnish neighbors. New Asgard had only been established two years, but they fought valiantly to secure their place on Earth. They traded in technology and medicine for room and board, always happy to help defend the planet that gave them a home.

For Brunnhilde, New Asgard became everything she’d once thought lost to her. At the fall of the Valkyrior, her sisters, she’d never bargained to experience happiness or belonging or even satisfaction. All of that had changed the moment she captured an Asgardian prince and sold him to the lunatic ruling Sakaar.

Loki, as Minister of Trade for New Asgard, often left most treaty talks to his deputies, but the Finnish had a deep love of the Trickster, so he saw to them personally. His wife, as Captain of the Kingsguard could not leave her king and so she remained behind.

With the wedding in only two days, she’d expected him home in the morning. She ought to have known he would be unable to wait. Ten days was the longest he’d been away of late, and tomorrow would have marked day eleven. Preparations for the wedding were well under way, driving the palace into an uproar.

And…she’d missed him. She always missed him when they were apart.

The Valkyrie turned in her husband’s arms, the desire to see his face overriding the need her body demanded for sleep. His eyes were open as she wriggled back into his arms, their chests pressed together, legs interwoven beneath the bedclothes. His emerald eyes met hers with ease, the sharp lines of his handsome face illuminated by a flash of lightning.

A small, familiar smile graced that beautiful mouth. She lifted a hand, cupping the cheek she often bestowed with kisses, enjoying the feel of his chilled flesh under her fingers.

Loki’s own hand shifted under the blankets, sliding down the ripple of her ribcage until it rested on her hip. His fingertips gripped, just slightly, at the flesh he found there, obviously realizing his wife had gone to bed in only one of his old shirts.

Her knee slid from its position between his legs, finding him hardening already. Brunnhilde did not bother to hide the smirk that tugged at her lips. His hand gripped more firmly, holding her in place as he rocked against her, seeking friction.

“Missed me, did you?” Hilde asked, allowing the hand on his cheek to fall. She snaked her fingers across his chest, danced down the indentions of his own ribs, drawing circles on his sharp hipbone.

“More than you will ever know.” Loki’s words were whispered earnestly.

Hilde allowed her heart to clench at the honesty of his words, the affection shining in his eyes as another bolt of lightning lit up their bedroom.

“Show me.” She asked of her husband, knowing the request would never be denied.

Familiar as his hands, tendrils of seidr drifted between their bodies. The magic echoed his body, felt as real as his fingers tugging at the clothing keeping them apart. He pulled back the bedclothes, cloth finding its way to the floor until they were bare before one another.

Brunnhilde captured Loki’s mouth, not wanting to play their power games this night. They had sessions that left them recovering for days, when pleasure and pain melded into something that could not be contained.

And then there were nights such as this, when they wanted to merely _be._

She slid over him, straddling his hips as their mouths indulged in a languorous exploration. Loki brought one hand up to fist in her hair, holding her in place as she shifted her hips over his. Her husband gasped when she took him into her body, a soft groan of her name as they joined.

Unhurried, they rocked together gently, rolling together as thunder clapped around them. Lightning slashed through the windows, illuminating them for moments before they plunged back into darkness. Brunnhilde braced her hands on her husband’s chest, rearing back to ride him with the storm. Her husband’s grip on her hips tightened, guiding, as he stared up at her, spellbound.

Too soon, climax raced over her. Brunnhilde fell into her husband’s chest, only to have Loki flip her onto her back. He braced his hands on the bed beside her head, plunging into her as he chased a peak of his own.

Loki grunted her name when a second caught her, dragging him along to bliss. Brunnhilde coiled around her husband like a vine, clinging to his damp flesh and pressing a line of kisses along his cheekbone.

He only allowed her to rest for a moment, before he began a second round.

~**~

He woke hearing a distinct rustle from the room adjoining theirs. Loki checked to ensure his wife remained sleeping, with dawn just staining the horizon. She slept best when he lay beside her, so it was easy enough to untangle his limbs from hers to rise silently from their bed.

After pulling on his discarded trousers from the night before, Loki padded softly into the next room.

The room they had decorated together, filled it with soft fabric in hues of mint and silver. Through the shimmering curtains covering the windows, Loki noted the sky quickly lightening as the creature in the bed on the opposite wall let out a gurgle of contentment.

Unable to keep the smile from crossing his face, Loki crossed to the little cot and peered over the edge into it.

There, lying on her mint-dyed sheets, he found perfection.

Frigga had her mother’s dark skin, her father’s green eyes, and a head full of black hair. Her little cheeks were chubby and often plumped with smiling. She wriggled in her bed, looking up at the mobile that boasted winged horses in shimmering bronze and silver.

“Hello, poppet.” Loki murmured as he gazed down at the child his wife bore him only four months ago.

Frigga turned her little head so swiftly she looked startled she’d managed it. The child searched for the bearer of the voice, flashing a toothless smile that melted his heart the moment she caught sight of him.

The girl cooed and gurgled, her fists jutting into the air, those feet banging against the mattress.

Loki reached into her cot, nudging one dark fist with his forefinger. Frigga latched onto the digit with surprising strength, tugging her father’s hand toward her mouth.

“I have missed you, my little one.” The God of Mischief whispered. “Did you miss your papa?”

The child grunted again, kicking her feet hard as she tugged on his hand. Aware that he was pissing her off by not lifting her into his arms, Loki chuckled. He slid both hands under her tiny body, picking her up with practiced ease he never thought he would attain before her birth.

For her part, Frigga squealed joyfully at being removed into his arms, her unsteady head supported by his hand. Loki laughed again as he nuzzled her cheek, only to wind up with her mouthing his nose.

“Ridiculous little creature,” Loki crooned. “I ought to have said hello sooner, but I didn’t want to disturb you. I do hope you will forgive the slight.”

Frigga only continued to press her gums into his nose.

“Your highness is most magnanimous.”

He shifted the child in his arms, cuddling her into his chest as he crossed the room to her dressing table. In fairly short order, Loki had changed her nappy and slipped her into fresh clothes for the morning. He procured a bottle of milk from the contraption his wife kept in the nursery and fed his child as he told her all about the trip to Finland.

Once her belly was full, they peeked into the main bedroom from the nursery doorway, Loki whispering conspiratorially that they shouldn’t wake Mother just yet. Leaving Brunnhilde to catch a well-deserved lie in, Loki and Frigga snuck silently out of the suite.

As dawn now spilled cheerfully into the palace, the prince carried his princess into the royal chambers just down the hall from the rooms he shared with his family. Thor, sentimental fool as he was at heart, would not hear of housing his family in another wing. He hated to be away from his brother, his sister, but most of all little Frigga.

The duo stopped at the entrance to the king’s rooms to be announced, not that Loki expected to be turned away. With the wedding tomorrow, Thor’s bride would be sleeping in the adjoining wing of the palace, for some stupid reason. Loki wasn’t quite sure why Thor wanted to pretend he hadn’t already taken his bride to bed, but he couldn’t really speak to tradition. He and Brunnhilde had been married by a Wakandan priestess three days before battling Thanos. In a field. With two witnesses. In their armor. What’d they know about weddings?

They were allowed into the King’s suite, where Loki found his brother pacing in the well-appointed sitting room. His hair, once more long and braided back as he preferred, looked mussed, as though massive hands had run through it in frustration.

“Good morning.” Loki’s greeting played counterpoint to Frigga’s excited squeal. Like most children, the little princess went absolutely wild at the sight of the Asgardian king. “What ails you, brother?”

Thor wore his kingship well, benevolent in ways Odin had only dreamed of, clever in all the ways their mother had trained them both. His people, even as few remained, were happy and well provided for in their new home. Relations with the humans, even with Loki ensconced in New Asgard, were more than amiable. And soon, very soon, his brother would add a title to his moniker more coveted than _Avenger,_ more meaningful than _King_.

“Vows,” Thor said with a heavy sigh. He set his pen and notebook aside, scooping Frigga from her father’s arms. “I’m not good with setting things into words.”

“I don’t think that’s necessarily true. I’ve heard your battle speeches, after all.” Loki deftly took the notebook into his hands before warning his brother. “She just ate, don’t swing her around, and please, mind her head.”

He glanced at the scribblings in his hand, Thor’s excellent penmanship undone by nerves and rashness. Loki winced at a few words underlined, rolled his eyes at others, and shook his head at the sheer volume of lines omitted entirely. Of course, his brother wanted this to be perfect. Not only was he marrying the woman he’d always deserved, a woman who would be a queen to nearly rival their mother, Thor _loved_ his bride. He would want her to be moved, to understand the depth of his love for her.

Thor would never be satisfied.

Turning back to his brother as the king made ridiculous noises to elicit a laugh from his niece, Loki sighed.

“You’re over thinking this, brother.”

“I thought I was incapable of over thinking.”

Loki waved a hand in a non-committal manner. “This isn’t a speech for the United Nations or a land haggle, this is a _wedding._ You should only speak from your heart.”

Thor turned to him, then, Frigga resting her head on his mighty shoulder. Loki captured that image in his mind, his brother holding his child and wondered how their mother might have enjoyed seeing this moment. She had missed so much, what would she have given to see her sons truly reconciled, to see them happy and settled?

The pang of sorrow passed and Loki shook himself back to the present.

“What should I say, Loki? You were always gifted with a silver tongue.”

At this, Loki bowed grandly. “I thank you for the compliment, but anything I might say won’t be right, not for this. How you feel for her is something only you can articulate.”

His brother’s mismatched eyes dropped to Frigga’s cherubic face for a moment before he looked back up, curiosity etched into those familiar features.

“What would you have said, had you time to do this with your Valkyrie?”

It took only a moment for Loki to narrow it down, only a heartbeat for him to know exactly what he’d have said that day he took the Valkyrie to be his wife.

“That she made me whole. That she healed me in ways I hadn’t known I needed to be healed and opened me up to be healed the rest of the way. That I love her and nothing could ever undo that love. That I would fight for her, lie, cheat, steal, and cross the cosmos for her. Nothing more and nothing less.”

Thor blinked, his odd-eyes closing out of sync as they sometimes did now. Frigga gripped her uncle’s beard with both hands, looking at him with such a grave expression, Loki almost laughed.

But it was the smile that bloomed over Thor’s face that told Loki he’d done some small good here this morning.

“I think I know what to say.”

Loki nodded. “Of course, you do.”

  
~**~

All of New Asgard had come to the wedding, along with the friends their King had made through the cosmos. Thor had apologized to other world leaders of Earth, other monarchs. His wedding, the first for New Asgard, would not be political. They kept the ceremony quite private, offense at the slight be damned.

It still made a large and rowdy wedding party that would last into the wee hours of the morning. Brunnhilde packed her child away with a nurse, knowing the crowd and noise would only keep her awake when the little princess needed rest.

Food lay on wood tables that nearly groaned under the weight. Royal standards of King Thor and Queen Sif had been raised all over the room, in their colors of crimson and gold. Thor, breaking with tradition, crowned his queen the moment they were married, ensuring they now had a complete royal family once more.

Hilde wondered how long it would be until Frigga had cousins to play with.

Though her husband mentioned Thor had problems with his vows, Brunnhilde could not tell. He spoke with quiet eloquence to his bride, speaking of their long friendship, of flames ignited and doused only to reignite at thrice their power. He spoke of loyalty and love and passion with such sincerity that left no eye in the room dry. Hilde had to pinch the bride to keep her from casting off all tradition and snogging her handsome groom on the spot.

Now, with toasts toasted and the meal eaten, the party began to wind down. Loki had taken Asgard’s new queen for a turn on the dance floor, whispering something to his new sister-in-law that had her laughing and swatting at his shoulder.

With the bride so occupied, Hilde was not surprised to find the King tapping her shoulder.

“Will you dance with me, Princess?”

Hilde scowled. “You’re not supposed to call me that in public.”

Thor merely grinned, holding his hand out for her to take. Hilde did so, lifting the long hem of her dress with the other hand. Yards of crimson silk drifted around her as the king pulled her onto the floor, her Dragonsfang sheathed at the back of her gown.

Princess or not, she took her oath as Captain of the Kingsguard quite seriously.

The band began to play a new song, one that Hilde knew well. She sent the King a sharp look as the beginning chords of _The Valkyrie and the Prince_ drifted over the dance floor. She didn’t exactly dislike the song, but they insisted on playing it at every function Brunnhilde attended with her husband.

“They couldn’t play _Queen Sif’s Refrain_.” Thor chuckled. “And they already played _King Thor_.”

“Why do we have songs named after us?” Hilde asked, rolling her eyes.

“Because we’re Asgardian, Princess.” The king replied with a grin. “We sing songs about great victories.”

Hilde shook her head, fighting the smirk that crossed her lips. The passionate melody drifted over the room as Thor spun her expertly over the dancefloor. They swung past Loki and the Queen, each reaching out to touch their partner before their bodies were out of range. Loki slid his wife a wink as he dipped the laughing Queen, pulling her up so sharply some of her hairpins came loose.

“You’ve made him happy.” Thor whispered before he nudged her into a spin. “I used to think that was impossible.

Brunnhilde shook her head once as she slid back into the frame of their dance, Thor’s arm crossed with hers before their bodies. “No. He’s made me happy, which should have been impossible. None of this should be real, but it is.”

The king chanced a glance at his brother before they switched sides and arms.

“I think we all deserve it, don’t you?”

Brunnhilde nodded once, her hand interlacing with the king’s in a rare display of affection.

“Yes.” The Valkyrie said softly. “We do, your majesty.”


End file.
